


A Kind Summer

by FrostOnGalway



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Canon Compliant, Esca ships it, Esca-centric, Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, Pre-Marcus/Cottia, sutcliff_swap 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostOnGalway/pseuds/FrostOnGalway
Summary: Marcus is infuriatingly stubborn and stupidly noble, but also a gem. Cottia is scarily good at getting her way, but also the cutest. Esca is trying his best, but he also has a lot of baggage to unpack. They all use humor to escape their feelings, and Cub stands in as an emotional-support animal (which is probably why Esca got him for Marcus in the first place.) But they have each other in the important ways. All in all, Esca is feeling pretty hopeful about the future.Takes place during the chapter "The Healer with the Knife."
Relationships: Cottia & Esca Mac Cunoval, Marcus Flavius Aquila & Esca Mac Cunoval
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20
Collections: Sutcliff Swap 2020





	A Kind Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mossgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/gifts).



> This fic is for the 2020 Sutcliff Swap, and was requested by Mossgreen, who coincidentally got me involved in the swap in the first place. Thanks for the opportunity. Your prompt was perfect, because this fic was already half-written when you asked for something that focused on Esca and Cottia. I hope you like it!

The summer days stretched in a lazy, joyous way that Esca had not known since before the clipping of his ear. They played games in the garden with Cottia, splashed in the bath, wandered about the streets of Calleva, and took Cub out to roam the woods outside the city walls. Esca even hunted a few times. The Centurion said, “I can manage without you for the day. And the fresh meat is welcome.” It was good. It was not at all as he had pictured his life would be, this time last year.

And yet, something lay beneath it. The Centurion and Cottia swapped stories, and Esca joined in sometimes, but they were all memories of homes that could never be returned to and were nonetheless fiercely missed. There were moments when smiles slipped and their wearers were far away. Cottia never lacked a tale about her aunt’s latest attempt to make her a Roman maiden. The Centurion clung to the happy memories of his Etrurian home. The dreams that followed Esca—dreams of burning homes and blood and empty eyes—had never quite gone away. Still, the dreams had faded with time.

The summer nights were beginning to take on a chill edge. The roses in the garden were falling out of bloom. It had begun to rain more, and yet Marcus, Esca, Cottia, and Cub spent every bright and sunny moment they could manage in the garden, trying to soak in the last of the summer.

And then, in the fickle way of the land, the heat had come pressing back upon them. It was barely past sunrise, and yet Esca already struggled to slog through the heat.

With the sudden reappearance of the heat, Esca had awoken more and more frequently in the night.

At first, he had not known the cause. He might have blamed the heat itself, but he awoke no more warm than when he lay down, so he thought it unlikely. He had wondered if perhaps he was woken by dreams he could not remember. Dreams of burning homes and blood and empty eyes that would never quite go away. But why would they come back so frequently now? And why could he not remember dreams that had often lingered long after he awoke in the old days?

He found his answer within the week.

He awoke to a moan that was not his own. He turned on his pallet and stared into the darkness of the room. Cub’s bright eyes stared back. “Centurion?” he whispered.

“What?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Are you alright?”

“Mm. It’s nothing, Esca. Go back to sleep.”

Cub whined. Esca heard the rustle of cloth as the Centurion dropped an arm to scratch his head. They all settled back into sleep.

Esca would not have given it much weight if the same thing had not happened the next night.

He woke this time to a larger smother of sound. Blankets rustled. The cot creaked. Esca heard the soft scuff of feet hitting the floor and a weary sigh. More rustling followed.

“Centurion?”

The rustling stopped, then started again a little softer. “I’m fine. Sorry to wake you, Esca.”

It took him longer to fall asleep that time.

The next day, the Centurion sent him on an errand to town. He was surprised when he returned and suggested they have a bath to find that the Centurion had already had one.

“When?” he asked.

The Centurion shrugged. “While you were gone. It was hot and I got tired of waiting.” He added, “You can have one if you like. I am going to sit in the atrium and hope for a breeze.” He called Cub to heel with a whistle and walked off to do just that, though Esca doubted the likelihood of a breeze.

He stood still, blinking in the sunlight. It was not that Esca minded the Centurion swimming without him. The pool was a small one and Esca could certainly sympathize with a desire to get out of the heat. But the Centurion had never gone alone as long as Esca had known him. The whole affair had an oddness to it that was quite unlike the Centurion.

Then he realized: Marcus had been limping as he walked away with Cub. He cursed himself for a fool. He should have known from all of the restless nights. Esca had long slept the light sleep of the hunter. The Centurion had always slept fitfully as long as Esca had been in his service. Esca had grown to ignore it. That had gotten easier as the Centurion’s pain had eased with time. But in the past week, it seemed that neither of them had found much rest at all. He should have noticed sooner.

 _It must be the summer rains causing the wound to ache again,_ Esca thought.

The Centurion’s mouth was often a tight line, but he had said nothing of the pain, so Esca didn’t either. At least, until he walked in on Marcus rubbing his leg with brows pinched by pain.

“That looks terrible,” Esca said. The scars wrapping around his thigh were shiny and tight. The whole area was an angry red color. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The muscle of the Centurion’s jaw twitched and he looked away. “Don’t tell my uncle.”

He looked back at Esca with metal in his gaze. “There’s nothing he can do about it anyway.”

“You cannot be sure of that,” Esca said.

“What would he do, Esca? If there was anything to be done, don’t you think I would have done it by now?”

Esca backed down from the bitterness in his eyes.

But he did not forget the angry look of the scars.

When Esca was young, he used to watch his older brother practice with his spear. Once, he hurtled it into the woods and it was lost among the trees. They searched for it, but before Esca had gone far he heard a cry. His brother had stepped on the spear and cut his foot. The slice on his heel was not too deep, but it was long. But he was ashamed, and he told Esca not to mention it to anyone.

“The fault is mine, and I will take care of it,” he said to Esca.

“But won’t—”

“I’ll handle it.”

So Esca said nothing. His brother hid his limp and dressed the wound himself.

Perhaps he should not have done. If he had swallowed his pride and gone to the healers, it might not have become inflamed. Because of a little cut, Esca’s brother was laid up for moons with the fever and a foot to swollen to carry him. He missed his manhood ceremony and had to join the men of the tribe a year later than his agemates.

It was not Esca’s place to reveal his brother’s disgrace, but for many long moons afterward he wished he had spoken. Much trouble might have been avoided.

“What’s going on?”

Esca startled. He had just led Cub to the bench in the garden for a grooming, when Cottia’s face appeared in front of him.

“Why are you hiding in the bushes like a hunter in wait for her prey?”

“Because I need to talk to you without Marcus poking his nose in,” she said. Cub bounded over to lick her face.

“He certainly will come poking about if he sees you half-buried in the bushes,” Esca pointed out.

“Very well, then.” Cottia extricated herself from her hiding place. She brushed the leaves from her stola and sat primly on the bench. She held out her hand and Esca obligingly handed her the brush. “I will groom Cub. You keep watch and tell me what’s going on.”

“I cannot tell you anything unless I know what is meant to be going on that cannot be discussed in front of the Centurion.”

Cottia rolled her eyes. She took Cub’s face in her hands and asked the wolf, “Why must men be so stubborn, eh?”

“Truly,” Esca said, “I know not what you mean.”

“Marcus, Esca. Tell me what’s going on with Marcus,” Cottia said impatiently.

“I don’t see why you should not simply ask him.”

“I did. Marcus won’t tell me. But clearly there’s something, so I’m asking you.”

One midsummer evening, the Centurion had gone inside to speak to his uncle about something or other, leaving Esca in the garden with Cottia. Cub was darting after the night insects just starting to appear. Esca meant to call him and go inside. It was not right that a slave should keep a young maiden company.

But Cottia said, in their own tongue, “I do not believe how big Cub has grown.”

And unthinkingly, Esca had replied, “Yes. Though his bark has not grown to fit his size.”

What was proper became inconsequential. For the first time in years, he held a conversation free of any Latin. They stayed out later than they should, talking of anything and nothing at all, so long as it was in the music of their people, until, predictably, they were interrupted by Nissa’s shrill summons.

Marcus and Cottia were friends because everyone wanted to be friends with Marcus. He was everything worth admiring. Esca and Cottia were friends because they kept the same secrets in their chests.

What Cottia is asking for is not Esca’s secret. But the Centurion only said “don’t tell my uncle,” and mentioned nothing of Cottia, or anyone else. And Marcus may have believed there was nothing more to be done, but he could have been wrong. Esca made a decision.

“I will tell you at least something of him, if you agree to help.”

Cottia squared her shoulders. “What can I do?”

Esca never saw Cottia complete her mission. He knew only that a few days later she leaned over to him while the Centurion was distracted and said in their tongue, “It is done. I have spoken to his uncle.”

“What did he say?” Esca asked.

“That he had hoped it was his imagination, and that he would say something.”

“So. Then we wait.”

He did not have to wait long. That very evening, he came into the sleeping cell to find the Centurion sitting on his cot.

“Esca,” he said, looking up at his entrance.

Esca looked back at him. There was a strange tension in the cell.

“Where has Cub got to?” the Centurion continued. “I wonder if you might bring him in for the night.”

Esca turned on his heel and went to find the wolf. It seemed that the Centurion wanted a moment alone, but as ever he was too noble for directness. Esca took his time in locating Cub.

When he returned, the Centurion was as Esca had left him. Cub went to rest his head on Marcus’ knee. He caught the wolf’s head in his hands and fondled his ears.

“I have had a talk with my uncle,” the Centurion said.

“Oh?” Esca said.

“He has an old friend, a surgeon. My uncle has written to ask him to come down and look at my leg.”

“That is good,” Esca said. It seemed Cottia had done her task well. Both his and her names had stayed out of the matter. It was not that had Esca feared Marcus would be angry, but he did not like to be accused of disobeying orders. As for the little lady, the Centurion preferred to keep his affairs to himself. Yet Esca had broken his confidence, if only for the Centurion’s own good.

“We shall see,” the Centurion said. “Though I do not know what he could do that has not already been done.”

“I am glad of it,” Esca said. The Centurion could be so stubborn sometimes.

“We shall see.”

He had never seen the Centurion afraid before. Despondent, yes, many times, especially in the earlier days of their acquaintance. Angry, yes, but never violent. His was the fierce, protective anger that had saved Esca in the arena, the defiant anger that had blazed against Tribune Placidus after the wolf hunt, the anger of dreams and promises broken. Esca had not seen fear in him, but the Centurion was only a man, and all men knew fear.

Perhaps, Esca thought, the Centurion had been afraid all along. Esca admired him all the more for it, because he had not shown until now.

His eyes were wide like those of a spooked horse. As Esca bustled about fetching and preparing things for the surgeon, Galarius, he stayed as close to Marcus’ cot as he could. He could feel the Centurion’s gaze on his back, but Esca knew it would undo them both if they shared a look too long. He too was afraid.

When it was over, the Centurion awoke, groggy, pained, and worried about everyone but himself. Esca’s stomach turned and turned, but it was the better for seeing the Centurion was as stubbornly noble as ever.

He helped the Centurion raise his head enough to drink the sleeping draught the surgeon had left. Once it was gone, he turned his head contentedly into the warmth of Esca’s arm.

Esca swallowed against the heaviness in his throat. The Centurion was alright. He would be alright, surely.

The Centurion looked into his face. Esca supposed that his face betrayed that he desperately wished to be sick, because the Centurion joked softly, “Was it as bad as all that?” The Centurion grinned weakly, expectantly.

Marcus would get well. Esca grinned back and said, “Go to sleep.”

The Centurion dropped off almost instantly. Esca gently lowered his head back onto the pillow. He rose and tucked the blankets more securely about the Centurion. Esca stood there for a moment, letting the sickness in his stomach fade to something lighter, then he turned and went to find Cottia.

She stood up quickly when she saw him coming. The rug she had been using to keep her legs warm fell on the grass. “Well?” she demanded, drawing her cloak about her. The morning chill had not yet given way to the day’s heat.

“It is done,” Esca said. “He will be well again, better than before.”

“That is such good news!” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“How is he now?” she asked anxiously.

“He is resting. It will be some days yet before he is ready for visitors.”

“Yes, I expect so. Will you keep me informed of how he does meanwhiles?”

“Yes. I shall be busy nursing him, but I will let you know how he fares.”

“Thank you,” she said. “And you? It cannot have been an easy thing to do.”

To assist a stranger in digging through Marcus’ flesh? To be calm and quick with his hands while Marcus twisted in pain and his uncle and the other slaves lurked outside the door? To shut his teeth and think only of his duty in such a moment?

“No, it was not,” Esca answered. “But he will recover, and that is the main thing.”

Esca looked about. The sun turned the leaves in the garden to burnished gold. A light breeze shook them and lifted the ends of Cottia’s hair. Esca turned his face into it. Summer was nearly gone, but what a summer it had been.

“It is good,” Cottia said in their own language. Esca knew not what she meant, only that she was right.

“It is good,” he said. She smiled up at him with pointed teeth and gentle gaze. Esca remembered himself suddenly. “I must go and release Cub from the storehouse, before he becomes fed up with captivity.”

She laughed. “Go then. Before he starts an uprising.”

“It is mainly the battle cries that concern me.”

“And well they should. He barks loud enough to wake the dead. Nissa is always complaining about him.”

“Perhaps she would like to take him for his exercise while I am otherwise occupied. Otherwise she will have much to complain of,” Esca said.

“I will suggest it,” Cottia said, sniggering at the thought of Nissa taking Cub for a walk about town.

“If you do, you shall never hear the end of it. Now I really must go.”

“Yes, of course,” she said hurriedly. “Go, and if you really do need someone to look after Cub, I will do it. And tell Marcus I wish him well.”

He could feel that she meant it with all her heart. Esca wondered what the Centurion would say if he were the one looking into her earnest face. The Centurion was so much better with words than Esca. He settled for saying, “He knows, but I will tell him all the same.”

Esca kept his promise to keep Cottia appraised. Soon enough, Marcus was hobbling about again, and Cottia was back to spending her afternoons with them in the garden, and she could see him for herself. He grew stronger every day, and as summer passed into autumn it seemed certain that he would be sound again.

One day, as they were in the bathhouse, the Centurion said, “Now that I am better, I should like to start training. I feel I am ready to regain my strength.”

“That is well,” Esca said. He leaned against the wall of the bath and allowed the water to lap over his shoulders.

“Esca,” Marcus said abruptly, “I owe you an apology.”

“I cannot think what for,” Esca said.

“For giving up. For forcing you to keep my secrets when, if I had allowed your help, we might have had this behind us sooner. You have been very helpful indeed, though I suspect I don’t notice the half of what you do for me. Thank you for looking after me, and I’m sorry for being so pig-headed all the time.” He searched Esca’s face with his dark Roman’s eyes.

For a moment Esca could only stare back in surprise. Then he shrugged. “I am your body-slave, and my duty is to look after you.”

“Yes, but all the same. I really do not know how I would get along without you.”

“Cub is very teachable. You might train him to do my work.”

Marcus laughed. “You’re the one who’s so knowledgeable about training him. And I don’t think it would be quite the same. Just take the compliment, would you?”

Esca smiles, but he shakes his head. After all, the Centurion saved him first. It had indeed been a good summer.

**Author's Note:**

> The title and a few lines are quoted from the book. Any historical inaccuracies are mine.


End file.
